Page 89 of Ours to Lose
What kind of friend wanted to be asked over and over for favors?
I did. It made me feel useful, assured me I had a purpose. A place.
Did other people feel the same?
“You weren’t just my sous chef, Aubrey. You were my friend,” Jase said. “Still are, I think.”
I gave him a look likeof course.
He smiled. “Well, I like helping my friends. Especially when they’ve done so much for me. Called me out on my shit and kept me from making life-altering mistakes. It’s kind of the point, you know? Just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean you have to. I’m glad you didn’t force yourself to this time.”
I didn’t know what to say. He and Jillian were two people I’d gone out of my way not to inconvenience by asking for things, and now they’d both flat-out told me they’d been waiting for me to do just that. Theywantedme to.
It was hard to doubt it when it came from both of them. When I had Gabe telling me essentially the same thing every time we were together.
To ask for what I wanted.
To say what I needed.
To allow myself the chance to be heard. I wanted to be able to do that.
And I wanted Gabe.
Not because I needed him or idolized him the way I had as a kid. But because he challenged me while still making me feel safe. He heard me before I was brave enough to say what I wanted out loud and helped me be brave enough to say it at all. To ask for help like I had with Jillian and Jase.
I owed it to myself, and to him, to be brave again.
There were three days left of the tournament that needed Gabe’s focus. But after…maybe I’d try this asking thing again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gabe
“Day three. You ready?”Diego asked as I went through my prefight warm-up. Coach Lou and Colin hung out in my corner, watching fight footage from yesterday.
“Hell yes. I feel good.” Better than I thought I would after my first two fights in two years. Better than I thought possible.
“You look it. I still can’t believe you got a knockout yesterday.”
I forced down my smile. First knockout of the tournament.
Like I said, I was feeling good.
Diego ran a hand along the dark hair of the short beard he’d managed to grow since we were kids. It sharpened that pretty tan face of his. “Buzz is building, man. People are talking about you.”
“Good.” People talking meant high ratings for his event and free marketing for my gym. The more local boxers who knew my name and respected it, the better. “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to give me a spot?”
“All right, you know what?” he said with mock reluctance. “Talk to me after you’ve won.”
“I will,” I said, grinning. I meant it, too. I was going to do this.
With my warm-up finished, I headed for Coach Lou to lace up my gloves. Colin flipped his phone screen to show me footage of my opponent.
“This Isaac Herman guy likes to play on the offensive, but his cardio’s not as strong.” He pointed out the other boxer’s aggressive style. I’d noticed the same thing when I watched his fights last night. “Focus on slipping his punches. Let him tire himself out. Land a few good counters, and you’ll be golden.”
I nodded, filing the advice next to the other reminders cycling through my mind as my focus narrowed to the next twenty-four minutes. Another knockout would be sweet but unlikely. I needed to be ready for a long match, and I needed my body to outlast his.
I looked at Coach Lou. “I’m going to get us that gym.”
